These Are Our Lives
by Laughy-Taffy the Grape
Summary: A collection of one- and two-shots, with lots of different scenarios, pairings, and characters. No slash. - "Gwaine's sister pays Camelot a visit. Does it go well? That is . . . debatable." Repost.
1. The Best Punishment

**Title: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **K

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin and Arthur

**Spoilers: **Not unless you haven't seen Series 4

**Warnings: **Arthur throwing stuff?

**Disclaimer: **If you're looking for the owners of _Merlin _in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary: "**Was it too much for Arthur to ask that his manservant at least keep a civil tongue when speaking with those that actually _would_follow through on their threats?"

**AN: **Hello. I get a lot of ideas for one-shots, so I decided just to make a 'dumping ground' (if you'll excuse the expression) for them. Just a little information before I let you go: although the overall rating of this story is T - because I really never know what's coming in the next chapter - the rating above is chapter-specific, as are the pairings/characters, spoilers, warnings, and summaries. Just thought you should know. Also, this story is marked as complete, because these are one- or two-shots, and therefore, most of the time this story will be complete.

* * *

**Chapter One: **The Best Punishment

"MERLIN!"

Because really - was it too much for Arthur to ask that his manservant at least keep a civil tongue when speaking with those that actually _would _follow through on their threats?

He'd promised Princess Aurora that he would punish Merlin for his rudeness to her, though he'd been very careful not to specify what the punishment would be. Because he wasn't sure she would be consider 'cleaning-every-single-boot-in-Camelot' as suitable, no matter how much Merlin whined.

Merlin already knew - or thought he knew - what Arthur had called him for. He stepped into the room with a respectful but defiant expression on his face, and the king knew he was ready to defend his way of thinking to the last.

It was only years of experience that saved him from a broken nose, as Arthur's smelliest boots came whistling through the air. He ducked; they met the wall and bounced off onto his back.

**"**What-" he started to demand, but had to dodge again as Arthur continued the assault. "Wait-"

Arthur's footwear was lined up by his desk, in easy reach, and he didn't stop as he spoke. "You are going to go find" -_toss_- "the Knights, and tell them to" -_throw_- "give you their boots to clean, because so help me Merlin" -he hurled a boot with especial deadliness- "I will have the princess appeased!"

There was a lull, and Merlin stared. "Arthur, she _kicked me_! What was I supposed to do, take it lying down?"

Arthur raised another boot, but the younger man did not even flinch. "I don't care what she did, Merlin, but you'd better grovel for forgiveness, otherwise things are going to get very unpleasant around here!"

Merlin ducked again, then hurried forward to take the other boots out of Arthur's hands. "Fine, fine," he snapped, "I'll clean some boots as my penitence. But if you expect me to beg at the feet of that woman-"

Arthur shot him a warning look. "Merlin. You do realize we're in the middle of renewing a peace treaty, don't you? If she tells her parents what you said . . ." He trailed off, hoping Merlin had gotten the point.

**"**Oh yeah, the treaty," Merlin said gloomily, heading for the door. He took a moment to swallow his pride. "Alright, I'll go and apologize if it might help the treaty."

Arthur sighed in frustration. Obviously he would just have to go right out and say it. "It's not just that," he said. "You don't know Aurora; she'll probably demand that you be publicly flogged, and her parents will go with it, you can be sure. But if you are sufficiently humble - _and never do it again_- she might be 'gracious' and forgive you."

Merlin turned, enlightenment coming to his eyes. "Oh, so it's _me _you're worried about?"

Arthur's mouth thinned, though one corner was twitching. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. The treaty's far more important than you are."

But Merlin saw how it was, and he left the king's chambers with a spring in his step and a determination to give the best apology ever.

"**In spite of this difference in status, they were in terms of perfect equality." **

**-Agatha Christie**

* * *

Yes, I agree: that _is _the most perfect quote ever seen.

So, how did you feel about it? Dull? Lovely? Could use a lot of work? I'd like to know what you think.

I can't say when I'll update next. Basically, I'll post when I have inspiration for a one-shot. I really don't know when that will be. I'll try to make it soon, and I try to make it good;)

Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Why Didn't They Ask Evangeline?

**Title: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **T

**Pairings/Characters: **vague Leon/OC, Gaius

**Spoilers: **Not unless you haven't seen Series 4

**Warnings: **Murder and mayhem.

**Disclaimer: **If you're looking for the owners of _Merlin_in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary: **When Sir Leon was told that Lady Elbereth had died under . . . interesting circumstances, he knew - oh, he _knew_! - that no good would come of it.

**AN: **By all rights, this should have been posted yesterday, since it's a Halloween-ish sort of fic, but hey! It's only a day late, right? ;) Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter Two: **Why Didn't They Ask Evangeline?

Sometimes being a knight was not fun. Especially when you were called upon to investigate mysterious deaths. When Sir Leon was told that Lady Elbereth had died under . . . interesting circumstances, he knew - oh, he _knew_! - that no good would come of it.

Gaius wasn't letting anyone look at the body, but he gave his medical opinion on it.

**"**Yes, I do believe it was murder," the old physician told Leon. "There is no other explanation for the injuries."

And so began the investigation. The lady's family was baying for blood, but after three days of interrogations, spying, and detective work, Leon was no closer to finding the killer than before. He knew Lord Elbereth was becoming impatient with the lack of progress, but what was Sir Leon to do? The lady had been stabbed in a deserted corridor at noon. It was not unheard of, but usually there were clear suspects! As far as the knight could tell, Lady Elbereth was an uncommon woman: she never offended anyone, and was loved by all. So why the knife in her back? He might have suspected her husband, if he didn't know the man like the back of his hand. But who else would that the motivation?

He must have been meant to find out, because Sir Leon always looked where he was going. Except for the day he met Evangeline.

Well, okay. More like her laundry basket met his stomach. The devil is in the details, after all. But even after being subject to a frontal assault, Leon knelt down to help gather the scattered clothes.

As he placed them back in the basket, he noticed something very strange: many of the clothes had dark red spots on them. As he looked closer, he realized what it was.

**"**Is that blood?" he asked in alarm.

The woman leaned forward to see. "Oh yes," she replied, looking a little embarrassed. "I got cut quite badly, and bled all over the basket."

Leon knew how that was. "That'll be difficult to get out," he observed, then felt a little idiotic for pointing out the obvious. She just smiled though.

**"**Yes. I'm a little worried though, because I've never tried to clean blood out before," she confessed.

Leon took a moment to really look at her. She appeared to be his age or a little older, with long brown hair and dark eyes. As she looked at the laundry, a look came into her eye, one of sadness and pain, as if it had reminded her of something. His knight's heart went out to her.

**"**You know the king's manservant, Merlin?" he asked. She looked confused, but nodded. "He's adept at getting blood out of clothes, perhaps he could help?"

She looked at him for a second, as if expecting him continue, then she nodded and stood. "Thank you for your help, sir knight."

**"**Wait!" he protested, touching her arm. "What is your name? Whom do you serve?"

The woman blinked, and blushed a little. "I am Evangeline, sir," she said, then her voice grew serious. "I served the late Lady Elbereth."

The pained look was back, but Leon barely noticed it. "Lady Elbereth!" he cried in astonishment. "But-how can this be? I was tasked with finding her killer, why did no one tell me of you? I didn't even think to ask for her personal maid."

Evangeline smiled a little. "No, no one asked me about what happened when my lady died. I am only a servant; why should they?"

Leon managed to restrain his snort with difficulty. "No matter what anyone may consider you to _only _be, you should have been asked." He snapped to attention. "May I walk you to the laundry, and enquire on the way?"

The maidservant Evangeline smiled sweetly. "Of course, Sir Leon."**  
**

* * *

Evangeline didn't have a whole lot to tell. As far as she knew, her mistress had had no enemies - which Leon had already been told.

**"**But I can tell you this," she said. "That hallway that she was found in? My lady always feared to go down there, because three years ago, her mother died in that very same place."

Sir Leon stared in astonishment, not sure whether to believe. "Stabbed?"

**"**Oh no, just a sudden distress of the heart, but Lady Elbereth sometimes said she could feel the ghost of her mother in that corridor . . ."

Evangeline laughed lightly to show her feelings on Lady Elbereth's fears, but Leon had seen enough to know that he should at least investigate the possibility. Though it didn't explain how a ghost could catch hold of a knife. They passed through the very corridor on the way to the laundry. Evangeline became quiet. "I pass through here all the time, with my mistress's clothes. To think that she died here . . ."

But then she just shook her head and walked faster.

When they reached the washing rooms, now chatting amicably about nothing in particular, Leon smiled warmly and said, "Thank you for your help, Evangeline. You may yet help me catch a murderer."

**"**That would be a great deed for a maidservant, m'lord," she told him, hitching basket higher up on her hip. "But we'll see. We'll see."

**"**I hope we meet again," he said as he left, and found he meant it. He looked back one last time, but she had already disappeared.

* * *

He went to Gaius with the new information. Although he was not a superstitious man, Leon had been taught to trust his instincts - and they were whispering to him now, telling him that maybe he was on the right track at last.

The old physician, after he had heard Leon's piece, sat down slowly and thought for a minute. "It is true," he confessed, "that Lady Cornelia suffered from a serious heart condition, one that she eventually died of, and it is also true that she collapsed in the very hallway that her daughter lately met her Maker."

Here Gaius paused, looking at Leon as if appraising him. It seemed he was pleased with what he saw, for he nodded and continued. "You may not have known this - few did - but Lady Cornelia was actually a practitioner of magic before the Purge."

Leon let this sink in before venturing to say, awkwardly: "But you were too, weren't you?"

**"**Yes, and we were both allowed to live as long as we abandoned our dabblings. It was very generous of Uther: very few were given the offer, and even fewer accepted it. Lady Cornelia, even though she agreed, was perhaps not as contented with her lot as some of the rest of us. I cannot be sure, of course, but it is my belief that she may have continued her hobby in secret. It is possible even her husband didn't know."

Leon sucked in a breath. "But if she were a sorceress, than her ghost-"

**"**Let me finish," Gaius reprimanded sharply. "Lady Elbereth was a firm believer in Uther's laws; there was a deep rift between her and her mother because of them. If you are right, Sir Leon, then this could all be because of that, because of a mother that resented her life, and perhaps associated her daughter with everything that had gone wrong in it. She might have carried that resentment into death. And yes, as a sorceress, her influence on the physical world would be . . . noticeable. Even as a ghost."

The knight sighed softly. "Well then . . . But how do I prove it? If it's a ghost-"

Gaius shook his head. "I'm not sure how you could. If there _is _a ghost, we'll have to do something about it, of course."

He sighed, frowning, and Leon looked at him properly. There was something in the old man's face. Something that was not satisfied.

**"**Do you have doubts, Gaius?" Leon asked. "What are they?"

**"**It's just this:" Gaius said, looking frustrated, "that even a powerful ghost would have trouble controlling the dagger for one blow on one person. But then to pull it out and strike a second person? It doesn't seem possible that any spirit could accomplish it!"

Leon's brow furrowed. "A _second _person?" he asked, confused.

**"**Yes, the maid," Gaius said. At the knight's uncomprehending look, he said, "What, didn't you know that Lady Elbereth was with her maid when she died? They were both killed. The wound on the maid was shabbily done, just like a ghost's aim; it was her cries that drew people to the scene."

He didn't notice the odd look on Leon's face, nor could he have known about the chill that fingered down his spine. How could he not have known that there was a second victim? The idea seemed impossible, and yet somehow it had happened. No one had told him about the maid . . .

Suddenly desperate, he stood. "What was her name? The maid, what was her name?"

Gaius raised his eyebrow, noticing Sir Leon's strange mood. "Her name, I believe," he said, "was Evangeline."

* * *

**"**You wondered why no one asked me."

Leon, heading back to his chambers in a daze of confused thoughts, froze. The voice was calm, but full of the same pain that he had heard earlier.

**"**Right now you're probably wondering why nobody told you _about _me. Well, I'm used to it; I'm just a maidservant. When there was Lady Elbereth's death to worry about, why should anyone worry about Evangeline's?"

He turned around, eyeing the woman before him. She still held her laundry basket. There was still blood on the clothes. He wondered if some of it was Lady Elbereth's.

**"**I'm sorry," he said. He was sure what else to say. Evangeline didn't smile, but she shook her head.

**"**You're a good man, Sir Leon," she told him firmly. "You were willing to listen to me. And now you know what happened. Or . . . you think you do."

Leon moved closer. "Why don't you tell me?" he asked. "Afterall, you were there."

Evangeline looked at him out of the corner of her eye. There was fear there, alongside the pain.

**"**I'll be straight with you, Sir Leon. It's possibly the only way I can move on. The only way to atone for what I've done . . .

**"**Lady Cornelia did die in that corridor. Her ghost did linger there, filled with hate and anger towards so many people, but especially towards her daughter. You must understand that once someone dies, they do not change: they're stuck the way they were when they died. Even though you might expect a ghost to get over its old feelings, Lady Cornelia did not. She was bitter and angry. So she decided to do something about it. She decided her daughter must die."

Leon didn't understand what this had to do with Evangeline, but she gave him a look and continued.

**"**As I told you, I passed down that hallway so many times, going to the laundry. It didn't take long for her to start working on me. They can get inside your head, you know, they can whisper things. They can't make you do anything, or change your thoughts - but they can plant them. She whispered to me of all Lady Elbereth's failings, of terrible things and forgotten deeds. She argued that she knew her daughter better than anyone . . . so shouldn't I agree with her assessment?"

The maidservant's eyes, so dark and deep and endless, had gone dull and flat with the remembering. "I was a fool. I should have realized what was happening. But then it was too late. She had me in her thrall, and I was her prisoner. I was so eaten up with the thoughts she had put into me, that I could only do what I was told. I lured my lady into the same corridor, and, goaded by Lady Cornelia, I stabbed her in the back. She never even knew what happened."

Evangeline stopped talking, and swallowed heavily, almost gulping. She did not seem to be capable of tears, but even as a ghost, her emotions were strong. In fact, Leon could have sworn he felt it too. Maybe that was part of 'putting thoughts into people's heads'?

**"**What happened after that?" he prompted.

She looked at him again, and smiled bitterly. "The remorse always comes after the action. It's just the way of life. I guess we all hope our consciences will stop us.

**"**Once the full realization of my actions had come over me, I was horrified. Lady Elbereth had been a good mistress, almost a friend. And I had killed her. So, I ran. I'm not sure what I would have done. Probably run away, then returned and confessed. Oh yes, I'm sure I would have given myself up eventually: I was not totally lost, and in that moment I shook Cornelia's influence off of me. But she decided to go the whole hog, I suppose, and got me as I tried to escape."

Evangeline took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ears. "And there you have it," she said matter-of-factly. "The truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth."

**"**Thank you so much for telling me this," Leon said sincerely, and reached out to touch her arm-but his hand passed right through her. His stomach lurched slightly at the sight. Evangeline almost smiled a little.

**"**My time in this world is ending," she said. "I think I'd better move on."

She took a step backwards, and curtsied. "Thank you, Sir Leon. It's been a pleasure."

Through stiff lips, he replied: "No, Evangeline; the pleasure has been all mine."

Evangeline raised her eyebrow, looking amused. "You obviously don't have a very high opinion of your company, Sir Leon," she told him.

Then she was gone.

* * *

Two days later, Lady Cornelia was gone, exorcised through some mysterious ritual that Gaius that spoken of in very vague terms. The haunted hallway was now just a hallway.

There was a funeral for Lady Elbereth, and another, smaller one for Evangeline. He had told no one but Gaius about the spirit he saw.

He wondered, later, what might have happened had he known Evangeline before she died. It did no good to dwell on the might-have-beens, or the past, but he'd enjoyed speaking with her: maybe they might have been friends.

Or maybe even something more.

"**If you seek revenge, it means you're scared or you feel guilty for what happened in some way. It's okay to be angry with someone, but don't think about revenge. It's like a disease that eats you up." **

― **David Miller**

How did that sit with you? I'd love to hear what you think!


	3. Namesake

**Title****: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom****: **Merlin

**Rating****:** K

**Pairings****/****Characters****:** Merlin and Merlin

**Spoilers****:** None

**Warnings****:** None

**Disclaimer****: **If you're looking for the owners of _Merlin_ in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary****:** "Why did your parents name you Merlin?" "I don't know. Maybe they liked the name. Why did _your_ parents name you Merlin?" "Maybe they liked _you_,"

**AN****:** There. I've finally written it. This story is dedicated to the memory of my Uncle Merlin. Never actually met the guy, but seriously: how can I be a fan of this show and _not_ think about him? Anyway, this one of those Immortal!Merlin fics. It's set in the 1930s.

* * *

**Chapter ****Three****:** Namesake

Wyoming was an interesting place, if by interesting you meant 'boring'. It reminded Merlin of England back when he was a kid: mostly small towns with a whole lot of nothing in between them. The Depression had livened things up for a bit, but now the whole world had settled into a rut, Wyoming with it.

The train only came through once a day, so missing it was a bad idea. Merlin had never been one to be on time to anything, especially _important_ things, but he thanked his lucky stars for his landlady, for while he was usually annoyed at the loud sounds of her making breakfast at seven in the morning, today it had been a boon. Not only was he ready to leave in time, he was five minutes early. And he hadn't even had to run.

Merlin scanned the station for a place to sit, and spotted a bench that was empty but for a young boy. He stepped up and asked: "May I sit here?" The boy raised his fair head and nodded mutely.

Merlin had scarcely sat down when the boy said: "Beautiful day. Where are you off to? Cheyenne?"

The warlock nodded. "I'm on business. And you?"

"It's summer vacation!" the boy cried in jubilation. "I'm catching a ride to Larimie, to visit my grandmother."

He indicated the small bag that sat by his side. On it sat a book. Merlin smiled when he saw it was a translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

"You like those stories?" he asked.

The boy's head went up and down vigorously, and his smile broadened to a grin.

"Love them! You know, I think my parents must have known I would enjoy them, because they named me after one of the characters!"

Merlin laughed. "Let me guess: the great King Arthur himself!"

"No, silly," the boy said, "Merlin!"

The warlock blinked, and then, before he could stop himself- "But my name's Merlin too!"

The boy - Merlin - suddenly looked very serious, and he nodded as if he'd known this all along. "Yes, you looked like a Merlin," he said. "Our parents must have seen something . . ."

He paused, momentarily distracted by a whistle in the background. The train was approaching.

"Why did your parents name you Merlin?" he asked.

Merlin blinked. "I don't know," he confessed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe they liked the name. Why did _your_ parents name you Merlin?"

The little boy tipped his head to one side and smiled a little. The train was rolling into the station, and Merlin barely heard his response. "Maybe they liked _you_," he said, then grabbed his pack and raced over to the tracks, watching with an excited eye as the train drew nearer.

Merlin frowned. There had been something very strange about the boy's response, almost as if he knew who Merlin was.

The boy looked back for just a moment as he boarded the train. There was something in his eyes. An age-old secret.

He winked. _Just __between __you __and __me__,_ the wink said.

"**Meeting ****a ****namesake ****is ****one ****of ****the ****most ****delicate ****and ****most ****brief ****surprises****." **

― **Michael ****Chabon**

* * *

This story is not meant to give any accurate information about my uncle, other than his name, LOL. In fact, it's very possible that he was named after someone else whose name was Merlin;)

Also, Bollywood fans may have noticed that I patterned the scene off of a conversation from one of the movies. That was intentional.

Please review! I do appreciate your insights.


	4. Grievously Misinformed

**Title: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **K

**Pairings/Characters: **Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, OC

**Spoilers: **2.02 and 4.13 (I guess: not sure how those could be spoiled anymore.)

**Warnings: **Intent to harm.

**Disclaimer: **If you're looking for the owners of _Merlin _in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary: **That awkward moment when you think it's a good idea to attack the Queen of Camelot in front of her husband.

**AN: **Not 100% sure where this came from. I think it was me wanting to put a new twist on a potentially cliched story. It may be slightly confusing at first, but hopefully it'll make sense at the end.

* * *

**Chapter Four: **Grievously Misinformed

I think I took her completely by surprise, which was a good thing; you can never be too careful with sorceresses. My sword, sharpened that very morning, whistled downward towards her unprotected neck. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in fear.

Something heavy slammed into me, and hands latched around my wrists, preventing the sword from lowering any more. I fell with a gasp, but that wasn't too much of a detriment; I knew how to get myself out of this situation. I punched out, catching my attacker's face, and we rolled away from each other. As I jumped to my feet, I heard the slither of a sword being drawn. So, she had a protector.

I turned, ready, and my heart dropped like a stone, my breath hissing out in confusion.

King Arthur, who had been standing not three feet away from the traitoress (he obviously had not known she was there), now stood before me, blade raised and eyes filled with black fury. I blinked.

**"**Sire, what-?"

The king lunged forward, growling, and I was forced to defend myself. I may not have not have liked Uther, but his son had won my respect by being one of the best kings in land for a long, long time, so I was loathe to fight him. But why did I have to?

The witch was being pulled away by a dark-haired servant that watched the fight with intensity. The red-cloaked knights, with swords drawn, circled closer, looking for an opening. And the king still attacked.

There was only one explanation. She had enchanted them. This was a problem, since I had no idea how to break enchantments.

Maybe I could reason with him (doubtful as that was). "Sire!" I cried over the head-rattling clanging. "I mean you know harm! Please, listen-"

King Arthur locked swords with me, then gave a vicious shove, knocking me over. "Yes, I'm sure that's why you just tried to _kill my wife!_**" **he said sarcastically, his voice seething, and he stepped on my sword before I could raise it. The sharp tip of his came to rest on my chest. "Spare your words for the executioner."

Hands seized my arms and hauled me up, but they weren't a tight as the grip that took my heart. Her hold on him was too strong. "No no, you don't understand," I gasped. "She's a sorceress! You know that, I know you do!"

Arthur turned to meet her dark eyes, and I hated how good of an actress she was. You'd almost believe she didn't know what I was talking about. "Who, _Guinevere_?" the king asked incredulously, and was about to dismiss me when I responded.

**"**No, sire, Morgana."

No one knew what to say to that. Arthur and the witch exchanged confused looks once more, while the servant, still loosely holding her arm, narrowed his eyes at me. **  
**The witch spoke, her voice low. "I don't understand. You think _I-"_

Anger filled me. After all she had done, all the hurt and pain and death she had caused, she dared deny it?

**"**You know who you are," I snarled, straining against the hands holding me, ignoring how they tightened. "Don't you dare-"

**"**Enough."

The king stepped into my line of sight, sword raised threateningly, but the woman interrupted. "No, Arthur, let him speak. I want to know why."

She stepped forward gracefully, and her deep brown eyes looked into mine. It was hard to hate her when she looked so beautiful and kind, but I was good at that.**  
****"**Why?" I snapped. "You may have them fooled, but I know who you are, Morgana. I haven't forgotten your face, even after all these years. I thought you were such an innocent girl when I first met you, but then I heard about all the things you did, all the people you hurt, the lives you ruined in your quest for revenge. _You don't fool me_. And you can kill me, but there will be others to take my place, others that are loyal to this man here. Don't think you can get away with what you've done."

She stared. "You have been grievously misinformed, sir. I am not Morgana, I am the Queen, Guinevere."

Before I could answer this, the servant behind her demanded suddenly, "Where did you see her?"

I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

**"**Where did you see Gwen?" he asked seriously. "When did you meet?"

**"**It was many years ago. I had been captured by Hengist, a man that forces his prisoners to fight each other or die. She had also been taken captive, and was a 'guest' there. It was before she revealed her true colors."

King, sorceress, and servant exchanged startled, almost relieved looks. Arthur almost laughed. "Ah-ha," he said. "I think I understand."

Gesturing to the knights to free me, he said, "It's a bit of a funny story . . ."

**"'****How many times are you going to save my life?' 'As many times as you put yourself at risk.'" **

**-Zaara Hayaat Khan and Veer Pratap Singh**

* * *

*shrugs* I thought it sounded like an interesting idea, but I'm not sure how well it turned out . . .

I'm actually trying to work on a multi-chapter fic at the moment. It's going to awesome and amazing, with kidnappings, misunderstandings, and mutant chicken-thieves (or _are they!?_) I'm hoping to start publishing it in January, so you have something to look forward to;)


	5. The Fighting Drunk

**Title: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **K+

**Pairings/Characters: **Gwaine, hapless prison guard.

**Spoilers: **None, really: set before 3.04

**Warnings: **Some head-bashing and Gwaine-awesomeness (you might want to shield your eyes;)

**Disclaimer: **If you're looking for the owners of _Merlin _in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary: **Really, it was just his luck to get caught escaping a bar-fight, Gwaine thought. _I guess guards in the capital of Mercia are a little more observant than those in Escetia._

**AN: **This chapter is for anyone looking for an Awesome!Gwaine fix. And even if you aren't, you are more than welcome too;)

* * *

**Chapter Five: **The Fighting Drunk

Gwaine was just putting his boots back on when the guard for the new shift entered. It was a young man of maybe twenty-five, and he looked nervous and a bit high-strung.

**"**What are you doing with your boots?" he asked suspiciously as Gwaine finished buckling them on.

**"**Oh, I'm sorry, do you sleep in your boots?" Gwaine asked sarcastically, then rolled his eyes. "'Cause normal people take them off at night. Even in jail," he added under his breath, casting an eye over the dirty cell. The pillow lay on a corner, tossed there earlier; he hadn't wanted to risk lice.

The guard grunted, flushing a little, then sat down without another word.

Really, it was just his luck to get caught escaping a bar-fight, Gwaine thought. _I guess guards in the capital of Mercia are a little more observant than those in Escetia. _But no matter.

The guard spoke unexpectedly. "The barkeep said you were a bit of a legend. Gwaine, the fighting drunk."

He didn't add any derogatory insults to the end of the sentence, and Gwaine thought, _Nice man. Keeps to the rules. Good._

**"**I like being left in peace, but other people get angry when they've been drinking," Gwaine muttered. "I defend myself. Is that wrong?"

**"**No," the guard admitted. "But bar-fights _are _wrong. That's why we brought you in. So no hard feelings, yeah?"

**"**You've gotta have someone to blame."

The man looked at his hands. "If you like to put it that way." Then they were both silent.

Gwaine watched the man out of the corner of his eye. His keys were on his belt. After a few minutes, he got up and moved to the bars.

**"**Hey, come here," he said. "I'd like to tell you something." He was fingering something.

The guard raised an eyebrow. "Then you can tell me from here. They warned me not to get into arm's reach."

Gwaine grinned lazily. "Well, then perhaps it's a good thing that you don't need to be in arm's reach . . ." He held up what was in his hand, and a ring of keys glinted in the light.

The guard gave a cry and lunged forward, not even thinking. Gwaine grabbed him and banged his head on the bars: unconsciousness was instantaneous.

**"**. . . In order for me to lure you closer," Gwaine finished his sentence with a shake of the head. "Works every time."

He bent over and grabbed the keys from the guard's belt, then pulled his boot off to return the other set of keys to its hidden depths. As he unlocked the door to the cell, he mentally thanked his old pal Deagan for showing him that trick. It hurt to step on the fake keys, but they were certainly useful in escaping prison.

Gwaine reached the outer door and turned to the stirring guard. "Farewell, friend," he said softly. "Perhaps I'll buy you a drink sometime."

He was gone.

"**They're not supposed to show prison films in prison. Especially ones that are about escaping." **

**-Steve Buscemi**

* * *

Possibly he goes right back into the hands of the law, but that's where it's ending;)

Fun fact: I originally imagined this with Merlin in Gwaine's place, but that seemed vaguely OOC. So. You get Gwaine instead.

Please review!


	6. Songgaar

**Title: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **K

**Pairings/Characters: **Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Hunith.

**Spoilers: **None (Modern AU)

**Warnings: **None, really.

**Disclaimer: **You don't understand! I coulda owned Merlin. I coulda been a producer. I could've been somebody, instead of a fanfiction writer, which is what I am.

**Summary: **It starts out normal, but then there's missed appointments and staring at people and cryptic statements. And then there's the , no matter what Merlin says, makes no sense AT ALL.

**AN: **Repost: This is the start of me moving my one-shots into this collection. I actually really like this story . . . Hopefully you do to, even those that have read it before (and don't worry, I saved all the lovely reviews; you people are so nice to me:)

* * *

**Chapter Six**: Songgaar

Arthur has come to the same coffee shop for the past three years. It's always crowded (because the drinks are good), but he doesn't mind; it's a good routine. He doesn't even need to say his order anymore, because all the staff know him.

One day, as he walks into the shop, breathing in the heady mix of coffee and cake, someone plows right into him. Hot drink falls everywhere.

**"**Oh, I'm so sorry!" says the other man, and together they mop up spilled coffee. The only thing Arthur is really annoyed about is the spill on his coat; Gwen had given that to him for Christmas, and he gloomily dabbed at the dark spot.

**"**Yeah . . . sorry about that," the man says, and Arthur gets his first good look at him. Dark hair, blue eyes . . . hang on . . .

**"**Merlin?" he asks incredulously.

Merlin blinks a few times, then recognition dawns. "Arthur! Well, fancy meeting you here!" The two haven't seen each other for almost two years, since they'd graduated from college.

**"**I thought you left the country," Arthur responds. "Went to Thailand or something for research."

**"**I did!" Merlin tells him. "But I'm back now. Working at a lab now, studying viruses. And you? Did you ever work up the courage to ask Gwen out?"

Arthur laughs. "We're married now, for almost a year and a half! You really have missed a lot, Merlin!"

Somehow they find an empty table and exchange stories over their coffee. Merlin tells of his work at the lab, and Arthur relates how he and Gwen finally got together.

They're both late to work, and agree to meet there the next day.

Gwen is ecstatic when she hears who Arthur has found, and comes with him to see Merlin as well. She doesn't come all the time they meet, but enough that Arthur knows she and Merlin would get on just fine even if he wasn't there. They talk of all sorts of things; school, work, friends, family, old classmates, politics, the weather - there were no end of subjects, but they usually end up arguing and calling each other names . . . at least until they dissolve into silent laughter. Sometimes they sit in companionable silence and don't say anything.

One day, about a month or two into their little arrangement, Merlin is late, and he seems a little off to Arthur. He keeps on looking around the coffee shop like he fears he's never going to see it again, and he doesn't seem to want to leave.

**"**You'll come to tomorrow, won't you?" he asks Arthur almost desperately as the former stands to leave. "You're coming?"

**"**Here, you mean?" Arthur asks in surprise, and Merlin nods. "Yes, of course, why wouldn't I?"

Merlin shifts uncomfortably. "I don't know. You might . . . forget."

Arthur stares at him for a moment, then says, "I won't forget, Merlin," and leaves before the conversation can take a turn to the even weirder.

He does, indeed, come the next day, and Merlin acts even stranger. Today he seems to be completely apathetic about everything. He doesn't drink his coffee, or talk much. He winces at loud noises, and Arthur thinks he might have a hangover.

**"**What's the matter with you?" he asks bluntly, after five minutes of basically talking to the chair. "You're not yourself this morning, and as much as I hate to admit it, you usually provide some stimulating conversation. So out with it."

Merlin lifts his eyes from his muffin. He looks . . . there's no other way to describe it: hopeless.

He says suddenly: "My uncle died."

Arthur startles; this was not what he was expecting. "I'm sorry," he says awkwardly. "Were you close?"

**"**He was a great help to me and Mom after Dad left," Merlin replies, his voice dark and quiet. "He practically _was_my father. So yeah, we were close."

Well, this explains everything, doesn't it? Arthur feels like - what was Merlin always calling him? - a prat for being so callous and demanding. "I'm sorry," he says again, not really knowing what else to say. "I know what it's like to lose someone close to you."

Merlin looks up again, and there is an ancient grief burning in those eyes, mixed with what Arthur thinks might be fear. "You don't know what it's like," he says, almost coldly. "You really don't know. No one does. No one alive knows how I feel."

And with those last parting words, he stands up and leaves the coffee shop. Arthur feels like he is missing something important. Something vital.

* * *

After the fiasco that was their last meeting, Arthur thinks that maybe Merlin will avoid him, but the younger man is sitting at their usual table as always, drinking his coffee this time and looking much better, if still a little peaky. Hesitantly, Arthur sits across from him, waiting for another censure, but Merlin just smiles a little.

**"**Glad to see I didn't scare you off," he says, sounding almost cheerful.

Arthur scoffs. "I don't think you could scare me off if you tried, Merlin," though that's not quite true. Merlin smiles. Arthur thinks that maybe he should say something apologetic. "How are you doing?"

Merlin shrugs. "Alright, I guess. Better than can be expected, I think."

Arthur silently agrees. He doesn't think he would be reacting this well if his father had died. It is a humbling thought.

**"**The funeral is on Friday," Merlin tells him, then adds hurriedly, "I'm not inviting you. I don't think you should come. It wouldn't . . . There are things . . ."

He trails off slowly, then frowns. "Let's not talk about this anymore," he says decisively. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else. How about that rainstorm, eh?"

Arthur stares. "What rainstorm?"

**"**The one that was, what, two weeks ago? I heard there was flooding in some places."

Arthur frowns. "It must have been in your part of town," he says. "We haven't had rain for weeks and weeks where I live. More's the pity; all Gwen's flowers are dying."

**"**Yeah, this heat's pretty awful," Merlin agrees. "How's your sister?"

**"**Morgana's doing fine, I think. We haven't talked recently."

**"**Didn't she get a promotion a little while back?"

**"**No, actually she just got a new job. No promotions yet."

**"**Hmph." Merlin seems taken aback by this. "Does she have a boyfriend?"

**"**Why, you interested in applying for the post?" Arthur asks in amusement.

Merlin gives him a look. "It just seems like she always had one, back in college."

**"**Oh yeah, you remember Greg?" Arthur chortles. At Merlin's questioning look, he elaborates. "Greg Jasmin, he was your roommate." Merlin still shows no comprehension, though his eyebrows are starting to draw together, and he no longer looks just confused, but also a little alarmed. Arthur is perplexed. "Come on, Greg! Short guy with black hair, played the violin or something? I know he was your roommate!"

Merlin suddenly laughed. "Oh, Greg! I remember now! You're right, he was my roommate, but he played the, um, cello, I think."

Abruptly, Merlin stands up, smiling in a rather fixed manner. "I just remembered, I have a, um, appointment before work, and I have to leave now. Sorry, Arthur. I'll see you tomorrow."

And he leaves just as suddenly as the day before. Arthur sighs. He does not understand, and he doesn't know how to understand.

When he tells her of the strange events, Gwen sits still, her brow scrunched and her face thoughtful.

**"**I don't know, Arthur," she says. "Maybe he thought you were insensitive about the whole thing."

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. "If he wants sympathy, he knows better than to come to me. I tried, I really did, but I just can't do that sort of thing!"

**"**I understand, I really do," Gwen says, looking a little distressed. "But the truth is, I don't really know why he's acting this way. His uncle has just died. He's probably confused and sad. Possibly he doesn't even know why. You just have to be patient."

* * *

Merlin is not very talkative the next morning. He looks harried and a little frazzled, and keeps on watching the people around them with a curious expression, like he wants to jump and talk to them but is not sure what to say. Arthur half-heartedly makes conversation, but it dies out after a few minutes. He wishes Gwen could have come.

When it is time for Merlin to leave, Arthur grabs his arm. "Merlin, you know if you ever need to talk, I'm only a phonecall away, right? You can always talk to me, or Gwen."

To Arthur's acute embarrassment, Merlin's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Arthur," he said softly, swallowing hard. He leans a little closer. "Arthur, if you want to help me, _find out about the rainstorm._**"**

Then he leaves very quickly.

Arthur's not entirely sure what just happened. Rainstorm? It takes him several minutes of puzzling to figure this one out: the rainstorm Merlin had mentioned. He shrugs and leaves for work.

* * *

Merlin is not there the next morning, or the next. For three days straight Arthur sits at their usual table, waiting until he is almost late for work. He is now annoyed at Merlin's claim that he doesn't need a cell phone because no one ever calls him, because Arthur doesn't know Merlin's home number.

When he tells Gwen about this, she looks troubled.

**"**You said he was acting strangely beforehand," she says. "Maybe something happened, and he just hasn't had the chance to tell you yet."

Something _has_happened, this Arthur knows. A dark feeling deep in his chest tells him so. Something wrong has happened with Merlin. Something more than just the death of his uncle is eating away at him.

And the rainstorm? There had been none. No rain anywhere near London for almost a month. This makes no sense to Arthur.

**"**I've got to find him, Gwen," he says. "I don't understand, and I think he wants me to, without telling me himself."

He's not sure how he knows this, or why Merlin would want this, but he just _knows._

Arthur calls Merlin's work, and is shocked to discover that Merlin had quit a few days before. He'd left no indication of where he was going next. A hunt for Merlin's place of residence ends with his landlady saying he gave his dog to her daughter and just left. His apartment is ransacked, as if he left in a hurry.

After that nothing. Arthur can find nothing.

He doesn't know what to do. He feels like he has failed Merlin.

* * *

Two weeks later, he is standing inside the coffee shop, waiting for his order, when he looks out the window and sees something that makes his heart stop beating for a moment.

Merlin is standing outside, looking at the shop with a considering expression, as if he's contemplating his order. As Arthur stands dumbstruck, an older woman comes dashing up and grabs his arm, pulling him away. He sighs, disconsolate, but follows.

Well, Arthur can't have _that_, can he? Struggling through the rush-hour crowd, he makes it outside and dashes after the pair as they walk away.

**"**Merlin!" he shouts. "Merlin!"

Merlin turns around at his name. His eyes search for the caller, and when they land on Arthur, his whole face lights up like he has never been happier to see someone in his life.

**"**Arthur!" he cries. "It's Arthur, Alice! I knew it was the right place!"

Alice stares as Arthur halts before them.

**"**I told you he was real!" Merlin continues, grinning broadly.

This is an odd comment, but Arthur has other subjects on his mind. "Where have you _been_, Merlin?" he gasps. "I've been looking for you for two weeks! You quit your job, and left your home, and no one knew where you were!"

Up close, Arthur realizes, Merlin doesn't look well, peaky and pale, with bags under his eyes.

**"**You're Arthur?" Alice asks skeptically, like the thought of Merlin making someone up was more likely. "How well do you know Merlin?"

**"**We were at college together-" Arthur says distractedly, still waiting for Merlin's answer.

At that moment, a white van with the words 'Greendale Institution' written on the side rolls up, and a man with blonde hair gets out.

**"**There you are, Merlin," he says with quiet relief. "You shouldn't run off like that, we get worried. Just come back with us, alright?"

**"**But, Edwin," Merlin said with insatiable enthusiasm, "it's Arthur. I was right, this is Arthur!"

Arthur is very confused, but he nods at Edwin politely and says hello. "What's going on here?" he asks. "Where are you taking Merlin?"

Edwin steps forward. "Take Merlin back, Alice, I'd like to have a little chat with Arthur here. No, don't worry, I'll take a cab."

As Alice all but herds him into the van, Merlin says desperately "Come and visit me, please," to a horribly confused Arthur.

Before Arthur can do something drastic, Edwin holds out his hand and says, "I am Dr. Edwin Muir. I'm afraid I only know you as Arthur."

The door is closed and the van is driving off. Arthur drags his attention away from it and grasps the hand. "Pendragon," he says. "Arthur Pendragon."

**"**Let us walk, Mr. Pendragon," Edwin says, and starts off down the sidewalk.

**"**What is the Greendale Institution, and why is Merlin there?" Arthur demands without preamble, not moving.

Edwin hesitates, as if what he will say will cause Arthur pain. "I suppose, in less delicate language, the Greendale Institution is a . . . mental hospital."

Arthur's eyebrow shoots up. "A loony bin?"

Edwin shrugs. "Basically, yes."

**"**And what, may I ask, is Merlin doing in a mental hospital?"

The doctor pauses for a moment; collecting his thoughts. "When was the last time you saw Merlin, Mr. Pendragon?"

**"**Two weeks ago."

**"**That's when he came to the institute. If you're thinking he was dragged in by the police, screaming that he wasn't insane, that was not the case. Merlin checked himself in. And I'm glad he did, because he would not have been able to function in the outer world for much longer. Before long he really _would_have been taken in kicking and screaming."

Arthur's memory drifts back to the strange Merlin in the shop. "What was his complaint?" he asks. What could have caused Merlin to act like that?

**"**Merlin suffers from severe memory loss," Edwin says bluntly.

Arthur blinks. Blinks again. "_Memory loss?_**" **he sputters. Of all the things Dr. Muir could have said, that is the last thing Arthur could have been expecting. "But . . . you don't go to a mental hospital for memory loss."

**"**No, you don't," Edwin agrees. "But that's not the only thing. You see, for every memory Merlin loses, another one takes its place. His brain has contrived to fill every empty spot in his brain with fake memories. Hundreds of them. And Merlin has no way of knowing which are real."

The doctor sighs and examines the storefronts before him. "That's why we weren't sure if you were real or not, because Merlin wasn't able to tell us anything but your name and the fact that he was supposed to meet you at some coffee shop. What were we to do? There are dozens of coffee shops in London, and he didn't remember your last name."

Arthur nods, his head full. "I understand," he says, and he does.

Edwin holds out his hand again. "I'd better get back to Greendale," he says, then pauses in the act of turning around. "You will come and see Merlin, won't you? I think it would do him good to see a familiar face - though I can't say how long the familiarity will last . . ."

Arthur shakes his head wonderingly. "Of course I'll come and see him," he says, then laughs. "To think I thought this had to do with his uncle!"

Edwin freezes for just a moment, then looks at him with a curious eye. "Why did you think that?"

**"**Merlin started acting strangely not long before he went missing, and he told me that his uncle - who was like a father to him - had died. But it could have just been a contributing factor."

There is something in Edwin's face that makes Arthur pause. "What is it?" he asks.

**"**It's just, Merlin did remember some things. And he told us that he's pretty sure that what he has is a heritable mental disease. Because he remembers this exact same thing - memory loss and false memories - happening to his uncle."

After Edwin calls a cab and leaves, Arthur goes back to the coffee shop and sits, thinking hard. He doesn't understand. He now believes that Merlin knew this was going to happen to him, but why he can't figure out. And what does this have to do with his uncle?

As he sits there, puzzling and puzzling until his puzzler is sore, it starts to rain. He watches it, unseeing, and it is not until he actually goes outside into it that he realizes what is happening. The heavy drops fall like bullets through the warm but fast-cooling air, and the gutters are already filling.

The memory comes unbidden. **"**_The one that was, what, two weeks ago? I heard there was flooding in some places."_

Arthur doesn't know what it means, but he does know that it has been two weeks to the day since Merlin mentioned the rainstorm.

* * *

He and Gwen go to see Merlin the next day, and it is amazing how normal the visit is. Despite the fact that they are in a mental hospital, Arthur doesn't feel like there's much different with Merlin - except Arthur is careful not to mention any person or place specifically. He doesn't say anything about the rainstorm, because he knows Merlin won't have any idea what he's talking about, but some things Merlin says . . . an idea begins formation in Arthur's head, a crazy, mess-upped idea that doesn't really make a whole lot of sense, but he's always had a little bit of an imagination.

The next Monday, a woman is waiting for him at his regular table. The cashier points her out to Arthur as he pays.

**"**That woman's heard you know Merlin," he says. "She wants to talk to you."

Arthur eyes her as he moves closer. She is perhaps in her forties, with dark brown hair and eyes, and a kind, if tired, face.

**"**Good morning," Arthur says courteously. "You must be Merlin's mother."

He has never met the woman before, but he can't think of anyone else who knows Merlin that would want to see him.

She looks a little surprised, but smiles and nods. "That's right. And you're Arthur? Please, just call me Hunith."

Arthur gets himself settled before her. "What can I do for you, Hunith?" he asks. He knows that Merlin and his mother hadn't seen each other for years; Merlin had vaguely hinted that she had not wanted him living with her anymore, but had not said why.

Hunith squirms a little in her seat. "Do you know where Merlin is?" she questioned. "I've been asking around, and they said you saw him a lot, so I thought . . ."

Arthur nods slowly. "He's at a place called the Greendale Institution."

The woman does not seem surprised. "An asylum?"

**"**Yes. You knew this would happen?"

Hunith sighs. "It's the family curse."

Arthur sets his muffin down and leans in closer, elbows on table. "Explain. I don't understand what's going on, and I don't think Merlin knows anymore either; he's forgotten. But he wanted me to know."

Hunith nods, and stands. "Will you walk with me, Arthur? I'd prefer not to talk in such a crowded place."

Consenting, Arthur escorts her out into the warm air, and for a few moments they just walk silently.

**"**I'm not surprised that Merlin cannot remember to tell you," Hunith says suddenly. "That's part of the curse, you know: one of the first things you forget is that there _is_a curse, and_why_. It happened to my grandfather; it happened to my uncle; and now it's happening to Merlin."

**"**I thought it was Merlin's uncle, your brother."

**"**No, no," Hunith laughs. "Gaius is - was - my father's brother. For years he lived with me and Merlin. We cared for him, because it was hard for him to care for himself."

She was silent again for some minutes, watching as cars streamed past on the road.

**"**How did this curse come about, and why?" Arthur prompted.

**"**It was, what, almost ten generations ago? However many years. An ancestor of mine was cursed by a gypsy, to be a 'backwards man'. No one remembers why, only what is written in legend. But, every time someone in my family dies, the youngest descendant gets the curse, whomever that may be. In this case, it was Merlin."

Arthur frowns. "What does that mean, a 'backwards man'?"

**"**Well, you know his symptoms, I'm sure," says Merlin's mother. "Can't you guess?"

Arthur thinks for a moments, his mind casting back to things Merlin has said and done. "Of course," he says, almost laughing. "He sees _time _backwards. He forgets the past and remembers the future! That's how he knew about the rainstorm two weeks before it happened! That's what been happening to him!"

Hunith nods, and her face falls into lines of weariness again. "The doctors at that asylum probably think he's hallucinating, but he's really not. Everything he sees is true . . . or will be."

Arthur soaks this in, astonished beyond measure. To think, such a thing as curses . . . it is beyond belief! And yet, he knows it is true.

He sobers quickly. "It is a cruel curse," he says, and Hunith nods.

**"**Uncle Gaius could remember things if they were before him often, or if he was constantly reminded of them. But he no longer remembered his childhood, parents, siblings, anything. And the future was a terrible thing for him to see. Sometimes he would wake screaming in the night at the horror of it."

**"**And Merlin will too," Arthur finishes, feeling slightly sick. "Is there nothing we can do?"

Hunith shrugs. "Ten generations, Arthur," she says. "Ten generations could not fix this problem, and I could not find a solution either. I don't know if there is one."

Arthur does not reply. He knows she's probably right.

* * *

When Merlin sees his mother again, he cries.

**"**I'd almost forgotten you," he tells her through the tears. "I'd almost forgotten your name, and what you looked like. Oh Mother, why did you tell me to leave all those years ago?"

Hunith, dripping tears as well, clasps him to her chest and says, "I was afraid, Merlin, and foolish. You were despairing at being the youngest of my family, and I did not want you to see your future anymore."

Arthur leaves shortly after, leaving them to their tears and soft words.

Morgana calls later that day. "I got promoted!" she says happily. "Miss Fox says I've been working so well, I shouldn't be stuck in the filing room all day."

Arthur's very happy to hear this. Morgana had started to hate the job, saying it was too boring. Maybe now she would stop bothering him with her complaints.

It is only after he hangs up that he remembers that Merlin had 'remembered' this too.

* * *

He and Merlin talk often. They knew that Merlin would be no good in the Institution, but Arthur wondered what they would do after they got him out. Would he live as his uncle had, unsure of everything around him, plagued by memories that were not even truly real yet, and cared for like an invalid? Arthur's mind rebelled at the very thought.

Merlin, although he forgot any conversation relating to the curse almost as soon as it was over, heartily agreed. "I couldn't live like that, even in this state," he tells Arthur. "I'd feel helpless, and I don't _like feeling helpless_."**  
"**I don't know what we could do," Arthur mutters. "Until you can know the difference between past and future-"

**"**-which my uncle never did-"

**"**-it would be difficult to unleash you on society. Imagine if there was a bomb on a train, and you shouted at everyone to stay off because of it . . . can you imagine what everyone would think? How they would react?"

Merlin nods, and suddenly Arthur sees the secret in his face, the answer to it all. He almost sighs; had anyone ever thought to ask the afflicted how to cure themselves?

**"**Well, Merlin?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

Merlin smiles a little secret smile and leans in very close. "I suppose it's a good thing that there are still gypsies in the world, isn't it? Or we wouldn't ever find the original curser's descendants, would we?"

He leans back again, waiting for the penny to drop. Arthur does not say anything for several minutes as Merlin's words sunk in, and then he thinks-_Maybe it'll be alright after all._

**"For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see,**  
**Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be."**  
**― Alfred Tennyson**

* * *

The word _songgaar _comes from the Asian language Tuvan. It means to go back, but it also means the future. Tuvans believe that the future is behind you while the past is ahead, because if the future were before you, wouldn't you be able to see it? It was the first thing I thought of when I came up with this story. It just seemed to fit. (Fun fact: I found out recently that Richard Feynman, an American physicist, was very interested in the long-lost country of Tuva:)

Oh, and about that sequel I was thinking about posting . . . well, still not sure. But it's a possibility!


	7. Healing Words

**Title: **These Are Our Lives

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Rating: **K

**Pairings/Characters: **Merlin, Gwen, and a little bit of Arthur.

**Spoilers: **Little bit of Series Three.

**Warnings: **None.

**Disclaimer: **If you're looking for the owners of _Merlin _in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary: **_How very odd,_ Gwen thought, _why is Merlin sitting on Arthur's bed?_

**AN: **Another repost, this time of the oneshot _Healing Words_. I still saved the reviews:)

* * *

**Chapter Seven:** Healing Words

_How very odd,_ Gwen thought, _why is Merlin sitting on Arthur's bed?_

At that particular moment in time, her only thought had been to find Arthur; she hadn't seen him all day, and she felt a strange longing for him. Every since she had been elevated to the status of a lady, not much work found itself in her hands; the servants felt she was too high, the nobles thought she was too low, so she was lonely, she was bored, she needed someone to talk to, and since she hadn't seen her hopefully-to-be-husband in a while, she desired to talk to him.

As it was early morning, she had gone down to the training field in hopes of finding him there. Gwaine and Elyan had still been practicing, and had informed her that 'the princess' had left more than an hour ago, 'dragging poor Merlin back up to the castle to draw him a bath! I ask you—'

At that point, Gwen had thanked them and left.

_An hour? He should be done by now._

So that was how she came to be in the Prince Regent's bedroom, peering carefully around the door, and spotting a familiar dark-haired, be-neckerchiefed figure sitting almost casually on the neat bed, examining something in his hands.

"Better not let Arthur see you," Gwen said softly, and Merlin jumped; he hadn't heard her come in. "Is he working you too hard? Are you tired?"

Merlin smiled and laughed softly. "Oh no, just sitting for a moment." He looked at the object he held. "And thinking."

If Gwen had been almost anyone else, she might have made a joke about Merlin and brain capacity, but Gwen was not anyone else, and she saw that Merlin was sad. About what, it was not clear, but something.

"It has been difficult these last few months, hasn't it?" she said quietly, moving closer. "A lot of changes."

Merlin grunted.

"Do you think they've been good changes?"

He raised surprised eyes, and she could sense him deciphering her words, seeing the hidden meaning, but "I'm good with it all," was what he answered.

"You sure?" she prompted. "You seem a little withdrawn."

Merlin looked back at the object. "Yes. I have been, I suppose. Just . . . old memories coming to the surface, you know. Nothing new."

This disturbed the future Queen. He'd been like this before? How had she never noticed? How had Arthur never noticed? She found herself unsure of what to say. "Er," she stuttered, "do you want to talk about it?"

"We'd be here all day if I did that."

Gwen smiled encouragingly and sat down beside him. "I've got nowhere better to be." With Merlin being so forthcoming, she didn't want to miss this chance to get to know him better.

Slowly, he showed her what he was holding.

It was a small statue, barely larger than her fist, and it was a dragon. What was so significant about it, she had no idea, but it must have been important to Merlin, to make him so melancholy. Gwen turned the statue in her hands, trying to see what Merlin saw.

It was hand-carved, and well done, too, with almost invisible strokes and smooth turns. The dragon had life, as well; it seemed to watch her narrowly from its little wooden eye sockets. There was something very personal and familiar about the creature, something that made Gwen feel she shouldn't hold it too long, that it was Merlin's to hold and touch forever.

"It's beautiful," she said, handing it back. "Where did you get it?"

Merlin rubbed one finger slowly down the dragon's rough spine, his eyes distant and sad. "My father made it," he said simply, "before he died."

Gwen's breath caught in her throat. Merlin had never mentioned his father to her before. When they had gone to Ealdor all those years ago, to fend off the bandits, she had noticed a rather conspicuous lack of any man defending Hunith particularly, but had not said anything out of tact, figuring the man had passed on as her mother had. Now it would appear her suspicions were correct.

"He did a very good job."

"Mmm. He hadn't much else to do, I suspect. Probably became very proficient at it in later years."

This sentence seemed a little odd to Gwen. "What do you mean? Wouldn't he have lots to do?" She smiled. "I mean, helping raise you would be a full time job, I'm sure."

Merlin laughed, but only for a second. "He didn't raise me. He left before I was born."

A cold hand gripped his friend's heart at the almost bitter tone he carried. "Why?"

Merlin shot her a probing glance, as if questioning her sincerity, or worthiness. She almost cursed her forwardness.

Merlin spoke simply, "He was a sorcerer. He lived too close to Camelot. He didn't want to put Mother in danger, so, when the knights came looking, he left."

He turned to Gwen. "Mother never talked of him, so I didn't know anything about him. Wasn't sure if I blamed him for leaving or not. Mother never did, so I figured 'Why should I?' Turns out it was a good thing. I actually met him. And . . ."

Merlin stopped speaking.

Gwen could think of nothing to say. Well, nothing that didn't sound absolutely useless and trite. But in her heart, she knew how Merlin felt. Not entirely, of course. Her mother had died, of course, but she had been very young at the time, and she had always had her father, until . . . then.

_We've both lost our fathers to Uther,_ she realized._ Both of us. I never knew._

She put an arm around Merlin. He did not cry, and neither did she. Their tears had been exhausted long ago. For several moments, they both sat there in silence, thinking their own thoughts, taking a momentary comfort in the arms of a sympathizing friend.

The door banged open, and they jumped in surprise. Gwen, not wanting anyone to get a wrong impression, pulled her arm away quickly.

It was Arthur, breathing heavily and looking rather excited. He turned towards the occupants and stopped, raising an eyebrow in question. No suspicion, jealousy, or fear entered his mind. He trusted them both too much for that.

Gwen smiled slightly. "Sorry," said she, "we were talking."

The prince nodded in acceptance, though he was still curious. "Well, I hope you're done, because there have been sightings of a strange two-headed snake, which Gaius says is an Amphisbaena. Merlin, I'm hoping you have finally gotten your act together enough to know what to do."

Merlin's mouth twitched. It was almost a smile. "Of course, sire. The question is, are you going to get us to the snake, or will we being losing our way? Again."  
Arthur pointed a threatening finger. "Be careful, Merlin, or I might just decide the royal horses need another cleaning."

Gwen fought a smile. Everything was back to normal.

For now.

**"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one."**  
**— C.S. Lewis**

* * *

I'm really rather fond of this story, but if you noticed anything off with it, please tell me:)


	8. One Big Happy Family

**Title**: These Are Our Lives

**Fandom**: Merlin

**Rating**: K

**Pairings/Characters**: Merlin, Gwaine, Morgause

**Spoilers**: Set between Series' 3 and 4.

**Warnings**: Ridiculous theories abound.

**Disclaimer**: If you're looking for the owners of Merlin in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

**Summary**: Gwaine's sister pays Camelot a visit. Does it go well? That is . . . debatable.

AN: Repost. Enjoy:)

* * *

**Chapter Eight:** One Big Happy Family

"But she's your sister."

"So? I don't even like her."

"But . . . she's your sister."

"What's your point? Morgana's Arthur's sister, and she certainly isn't welcome in Camelot."

"That's not fair. I know you don't like her, but you can't go comparing everyone you don't like to Morgana. Besides, didn't you say she would come to Camelot whether you wanted her to or not? How are you going to stop her?"

"I'll avoid her!"

Merlin sighed and put a hand to his forehead. The two were sitting around a little table in Gwaine's chambers, the warlock watching his friend as the other glared at a piece of paper in his hand. "Gwaine . . . " he said. "Can you at least tell me why you don't like her?"

Gwaine, uncharacteristically pouty, sniffed disdainfully. "Can you say overly-protective sister that was never even there as I was growing up? Bossy hypocrite," he muttered. "I haven't seen the woman in ten years and she wants to meet me like nothing even happened." The knight slammed a hand violently on the table. "She's not even my real sister! She's just my father's daughter."

Merlin frowned. He had never seen Gwaine this annoyed. "Then what are you going to do?" he asked. "You can't stop her coming. Are you just going to throw her out once she gets here?" Gwaine looked at him speculatively, and Merlin narrowed his eyes. "That's a bit cruel, Gwaine. As you said, you haven't seen her in ten years. Maybe she's changed."

Gwaine sighed, then laughed slightly. "Perhaps you're right. And if you aren't, you owe me a round tonight."

His friend grinned, glad some humor had returned. "Agreed."

Suddenly, a wind started to blow in the room. Merlin sat up, confused and alert, but Gwaine sighed, down again. "Here she comes. Told you she was a witch."

As the meaning behind Gwaine's words sunk into Merlin's brain, the whirlwind cleared away, leaving the last woman Merlin could have expected to see.

He leapt to his feet. "You!" he cried, shocked.

Morgause stared, angered, while the knight sat up, interested in the turn of events. "Pipsqueak!" Her eyes narrowed; she hadn't yet noticed Gwaine. "Where's my brother?"

Merlin gaped. "I . . . wha . . . how . . . _brother?_" He suddenly turned in fury. "_Gwaine!_"

The knight stared. "What are you yelling at me for?" he demanded. "And how do you know my sister?"

Morgause groaned in horrible realization. "Oh no. Sir Gwaine. I should have known." Her hands lifted to the ceiling supplication. "Mother, Father, why have you burdened me with such a traitorous brother? Are my trials not enough already?"

"Hey!" Gwaine protested, but the sorcerers ignored it.

"Gwaine, I no longer blame you for any of your complaints," Merlin said. "But really, did you miss the part where we mentioned Morgana's half-sister was named Morgause?"

Gwaine hesitated. " . . . Maybe?"

Morgause drew herself up. "I don't care what silly tales you have been spreading among my enemies, or what lies they've been feeding you, but this has got to stop. You've been tricked, brother. I'm not the villain here and neither is Morgana."

Merlin frowned, his mind suddenly catching onto some thought. "Wait, wait," he interrupted Morgause's salespitch. "Wait . . . "

The other two stared at him, one in confusion, the other in disdain. After a moment, he spoke.

"Gwaine, did you realize that you're Arthur's half-sister's . . . half-sister's . . . half-brother?"

A moment of silence followed as the siblings contemplated this.

"Huh," Gwaine said, starting to grin again. He turned to the warlock excitedly. "Does that mean I get special privileges?"

Morgause scowled. "Laugh all you like, Gwaine, but this will all end in tears." She turned to Merlin threateningly, trying to look down on him. "One of these days, boy, I'll get you, and your little prince too. Mark my words."

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond as the witch spoke the words to the spell and vanished in a roar of wind.

No one spoke. Merlin slowly sunk back onto the bench, breathing out in relief.

Gwaine broke the silence unexpectedly. "Well, there's really only one thing I can say after that."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

The knight smiled. "You owe me a drink."

**"Siblings that say they never fight are most definitely hiding something."**

— **Lemony Snicket**

* * *

Hope you enjoyed:) Please review!


End file.
